


Cut

by Anonymous



Series: Eyesore [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Gen, Gore, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 13:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21639112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Medicine, Sakura has found, is less a skill and more a state of mind.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Series: Eyesore [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559842
Kudos: 18
Collections: Anonymous





	Cut

**Author's Note:**

> hello! more gore! enjoy! please handwave away any serious thoughts about medicine/physiology, we know we sure did.

When Sakura was young, she used to think she would grow up to be a good person. Not just that she would become good at what she did, or that she would be useful, but that she would be  _ good _ . She wanted to become a shinobi for more than the satisfaction or the knowledge that she was looking after her village, she wanted to use her knowledge to help people. That was why, when she became a genin at seven, she had looked at her sensei and told him with the certainty only children can have that she would become a medic nin. That was why she had spent her nights poring over anatomy books, why she didn’t mind that she only barely passed her chuunin fight against Ino. That spark of idealism was what had allowed her to face her fears of blood and death and maiming and go to Tsunade and  _ beg _ her to take her into tutelage. 

She couldn’t have imagined then that this is what she would use that for. 

And yet, she thinks now, as she feels her enemy’s chakra with phantom fingers the size and shape of scalpels, she should have. 

The man, another missing nin from another village, struggles against the chakra threads Sasuke uses to hold him down to the table. The room they are in isn’t large, by most accounts. But with just the three of them, with the way Sakura and Sasuke’s silence stands among them all like a crowd, it could be an auditorium. 

And come to think of it, wasn’t that how dissections are carried out? 

“P-please,” the man stammers. Green light bathes him, his stripped arms and torso, in pinpricks that move like waves. It always makes Sakura think of hundreds of lanterns released into the sky. Distant, beautiful, moving all together on a wind she can feel in her lungs. “Please, I know who you are.” 

Sasuke scoffs. Such behavior from a shinobi is downright shameful, even if he has heard of them before and knows what comes next. 

“Don’t do that,” Sakura says, sensing with the many blades of chakra she wields over him exactly where his skin trembles the most, “begging is ugly.” 

She listens to those tremors and leans with the gentlest of pressures. A fissure opens on the man’s skin, a deep line on the inside of his bicep, traveling dangerously close to the vein at the crook of his elbow. The skin doesn’t break so much as unzip, the dermis opening from the inside. The man moans and blubbers. Sakura knows from personal experience that it doesn’t hurt that bad, not physically. The pain only comes after the endorphins have started to wear off. But the terror -- that is instantaneous. 

Sasuke walks around the back of the table, meeting Sakura’s eyes as she moves her hands slowly back and forth in the air above the man’s body. Sasuke doesn’t enjoy this part, the part where he just has to hold down and wait, but he understands it, watching Sakura now to see what it is she wants. He can’t know what it feels like for her, how certain and calm and deep it makes her to see another body like she does, but he tries. He tries to pull the feeling from the depths of her one green eye. 

Her desire to find the secrets their target carries is submerged beneath all of the other secrets that suddenly rush to the surface. Old injuries improperly healed, insecurities hidden in the erratic pulses of the nervous system, the unique baselines and limits of muscular power. The particular songs that the blood sings.

Sakura holds Sasuke’s stare, letting him take what he wants, pouring the secrets back into him. This man likely doesn’t know that much about the Kazekage or her machinations, but he knows the burning heat of Suna’s sun. He knows what it feels like to set your own bone. He knows how it feels to be separated from a piece of yourself -- just two fingers, but ones he misses every day -- by a noble blade held in a noble hand. 

Sasuke raises a brow, then lowers it. “If you know us, then you know the best thing you can do is listen and listen closely.” 

Sakura opens another cut beneath the man’s collarbone, not as long as the last or as alarmingly close to a major blood vessel. Still, it has the intended effect. 

“You’re from Suna, yes?” Sasuke says. He’s not exactly asking. He holds the man’s hitai-ate in his hand and can plainly see the symbol for the village beneath the slash made through it. 

Sakura pulls two more small cuts open on his skin before he can answer, and it makes him cry out with a terrified wail. She can feel the tension increasing throughout his body, the feeling of uncertainty that has replaced his guts. One cut was alarming, two was threatening, but now he realizes she could tear him to shreds. Tearing meat from bone is surprisingly simple. A whole body takes time. But a single limb? A foot or a finger? That is no more difficult than pressing the ache from Sasuke’s head the morning after he’s gone on a bender. 

“Are you of a clan?” 

The man whimpers and Sakura bangs a knee against the lip of the table.  _ Pay attention, he’s asking you a question.  _

“N-no.” His heart flutters in his chest, breaking the rapid  _ thum-thum-thum _ of his fear. He is lying to them. 

Sakura feels around the seams of the cuts she has opened on him. Capillaries flush and bubble, their open ends throbbing in time with the man’s heartbeat. Sakura sucks in her breath and threads of blood begin to rise in the air, out of the cuts, hanging suspended, dark as ink. 

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m-- I’m not, my clan is-- they’re--” 

The man twists and pulls, as though he can escape the feeling of his blood being pulled from his body. The threads hanging in the air swell like leeches. 

“In disgrace,” Sakura says, her breath lilting and uneven as she pulls and pulls. 

“We know,” Sasuke finishes for her. “You’re Shirogane.” 

“No!” The man screams and begins to thrash. “No, I left! Please! I know their crimes!” 

There is a soft slipping sound as another cut opens on the man’s body, long and deep, along his belly. Blood bubbles up at the wound and even in the dim light, Sasuke can see how pale he is becoming. 

“I should hope so,” he says. “Because we need you to lead us to their weapon. You should hope that you can.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading, let us know what you think!


End file.
